


Wine

by phrynne



Series: Wine [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Come Swallowing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Face-Fucking, Infidelity, Love, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV First Person, Physical Abuse, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 21:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrynne/pseuds/phrynne
Summary: He’s on me like a fucking hex to the heart. He’s palming me through my wedding suit, his hand strong and eager and knowing, and I’m tasting the fucking Belanger wine on his lips and tongue and inside his mouth and I’m so, so achingly hard. I’m cheating on my husband, with his fucking expensive wine across Harry Potter’s mouth and it’s everything, I don’t even feel guilty, I feel high on Potter’s taste and it’s even better than I remembered. He’s better than any wine and he tastes like everything I miss. We kiss like the world is going to end, but it already did and I played my part in it.





	Wine

It’s my fucking wedding and I can’t breathe.

It’s supposed to be the happiest day of my life if I was the type of person to believe in that crap. I never did. Marriage is a fucking formality and I said yes because I needed to, not because I wanted it. It doesn’t matter what I want. It never did, why should it be any different now? The Malfoy & Belanger wedding is the event of the year. That’s what matters. Two wizarding fortunes, one british, one french. Now fused into one. Adam Belanger is a handsome, nice, wonderful man. He has brown eyes and a french accent. I never liked brown eyes. I hate french. He’s in love with me. With everything about me, or so he’s said. He has been for years. I don’t know why and never cared to. I think he’s in love with my money. His eyes were brighter than usual when we talked bank accounts, so I guess that’s more his thing. Fucking money. That’s what turns him on. Everyone has their kink. Still, his is slightly less problematic than mine.

Mother thinks he’s wonderful. I think she wants to believe him when he tells her he loves her son to death, that he’d do anything for me. I let her believe that. After the War, I just want her to believe whatever makes her slightly less miserable. Adam’s bank account has made Father forget how much of a homophobic prick he really is. When he looks at me now, only half of it is disgust. The other half says “if you’re going to take it up the arse, at least take it from a fucking wealthy cock”. All in all, everyone is fucking happy. I’m fucking happy too, if you look at my face. My smile is full-proof, really. It’s cold and plastered on my face, a proper pure-blood smile. My wedding suit cost a small fortune and it looks so good on me I think I could pull someone at my own wedding. The idea is appealing. I could let one of Adam’s friends suck me. It would take the edge off.

Adam has been my husband for five hours and already I feel like I want to throw up. I tip my glass and drink the rest of my wine, trying not to think how much I’ve already had. I’m not counting. Pans keeps the glasses coming because I asked her to. I think she knows me better than anyone because the night before the wedding she didn’t mind me weeping drunkenly all over her dress. She just caressed my hair for hours until I stopped crying. She never asked why, because she already knows. She also knows how important it is to keep the wine coming, so now she’s putting another glass in my hand and diverting the attention of some guest about to congratulate me. I love her, I should have married her instead, but I was never great with making the right choices. Also, she said I was too gay for her, when I asked her. I might have been pissed and crying at the time, that surely didn’t help.

I think she wants to marry out of love one day. I know she does, even though she’d murder anyone who’d say that to her face. Part of me envies her because she has that choice. The other part just wants to see her happy, so fucking insanely happy, as if she could do it for the both of us. I hope I live to see it, because I’m running out of reasons to be alive. She’s the only one who’s seen me cry. I only cry when I’m way over this side of desperate. Lately, I’ve been this side of desperate every single day. I spent the night crying until I felt it dry inside me. Now it’s just there, some dead thing I can’t put my hand on. Fortunately I’m really good at beautifying spells. All traces of it are gone, and I have my steely smile in place that only she knows is fake. As everything else in this wedding.

I drink the whole glass in one go. This wine at least is not a fake, it’s actually excellent, it’s a Belanger, my husband’s family wine, and for a second I think “this is what I’m going to be drinking all my life”. I feel sick at the thought but wash it down with more wine and one of my smiles, the ones that are cold and empty and no one can read into them. Well, almost no one.  

There are too many people in the room. I’ve done every fucking thing I’m supposed to do in a pure-blood wedding. Adam has twirled me around the room, dancing in his arms. They actually feel like a prison. I shook more hands that I can account for, until I got numb from it. I said every proper thing there was to say, received the expensive gifts with a delighted smile, let my husbands’ arm around my waist like he owns me now and let him kiss me in front of every guest, his lips demanding and opening me up, saying “you’re mine, now”. I smiled at him, like I’m supposed to, willing my face to look like a happy groom in a catalogue. Like I can’t wait for him to drag me to our bed and fuck me proper. I said so, to his ear, to be more convincing, even. I laughed at his friends’ jokes, even if I think their sense of humour came out of the gutter and it stenches. And I’ve done all this without even seeing them, anyone, without even hearing them. Because from the minute I saw _him,_ green eyes, dark hair, everything else was gone.

I was about to say "I do" when it happened. His fucking timing is perfect. It was the only part of the ceremony where I was fucking supposed to talk. Obligated to, even. It’s that consent bit, which is actually very ironic and amusing because I’m consenting to be miserable. Death by consent, it could be funny if I still knew what funny was. I was thinking this, trying to remember how it felt to laugh, really laugh, and everyone was waiting, Adam’s hand was pressing mine and it could be a reassuring touch but I know it wasn’t, it was more of a warning, a wake-up call. I took pleasure in ignoring it just because I’m a Slytherin and I can always push it further, and felt him grip it harder, almost hurting me. That was when I averted my eyes away from him and saw Harry. There he was, among the guests, just another face in the crowd but suddenly he was the only face I could see. The only one I knew. We were suddenly left alone and I forgot the "I do". The thing that came out of my mouth was: I’m going to murder you. It even felt more appropriate. Fortunately it was so low, no one heard me. Not even Adam and he was right there, his hand still on mine, now downright painful, crushing my fingers, his ring ready to stake a claim on me. Sometimes I think I could yell “I fucking hate you” right at Adam’s face and he wouldn’t even notice.

But not _him_. He fucking notices everything about me. Also, he’s a fucking Auror, so he read my lips. And he smiled. And that smile killed me. I didn’t die, though, I just wished I dropped dead and somehow turned that into a polite cough, even though I could feel pain ripping me apart. I said "I do", my throat closing down on me, Adam’s ring setting heavy and tight on my finger and then his hand on my arm, asking ‘okay, baby?’ in that sweet tone of his. Sweet as a dagger.

Oh, but he doesn’t know what he’s done with just that. I nodded in reply but it was Harry inside my head. _Okay, baby?_ That was what he used to ask me, when he was deep inside my arse, fucking me open, slowly, carefully, going deep until his lips touched mine and he opened my mouth willingly under his to breathe in _Okay, baby?_ I never answered with words. He could always render me speechless, breathless, out of my goddamned forsaken mind. Those were the only hours of my life where I was truly happy. With Harry Potter inside me. Now all I have is my own mind and it’s corrupted. It’s filled with thoughts of him. And, as I always have known, I’m slowly dying from it.

I raise my eyes and dig for my cigarette case. Adam hates that I smoke. He says it’s a disgusting Muggle habit and that he worries about my health but I know he just wants to take everything that still gives me pleasure away from me. Of course that makes me want to smoke even more, all the time. I want to blow the smoke right at his face and watch his eyes water.

I look around and Pans is nowhere to be seen, she’s probably entertaining someone boring, saving me the trouble. I’ll have to buy her a long holiday in the Bahamas or something. I’ll probably go with her. I need to stay away from Adam, for my health. I’ll be travelling a lot. We’ll have that type of marriage, I’ll make sure of it.

I wish I didn’t have to fuck him tonight, but I’m praying I’m going to be so pissed I won’t even remember it. Praise the Belanger wine, it's going to be my best friend for years to come. Tonight for sure - when he has me under him, spread for him, on our bed, my legs open as he fucks me as is his right now, as he pounds me on the mattress, as he spills his load inside my arse, because I’m his. For the rest of my life. Our first time as newlyweds, so romantic. I will be wishing all the time it’s the last time, but I’ll let him do what he wants. I’ll open my mouth for his cock, he’ll have me on my knees all night, taking it from him in any way he wants me to, like the good slut he knows I am, his hands hurting my scalp and I won’t make a sound as he grunts in my ear, whispering “you’re fucking mine, Draco”. I’ll nod. Comply. It’s just a body after all, he’ll never have me. I can be fucked open and still be no one's’. It’s one of the advantages of being me. I just hope I’m not drunk to the point of screaming _his_ name. That would be quite a mess. Me screaming another man’s name as my husband fucks me on our new sheets. I think I can keep it in. I’ll certainly come feeling _his_ cock instead of Adam’s.

I’m moving through the rooms towards one of the balconies. I took another glass and emptied it on my way, then took another one. God, I love this wine as much as I hate the man that named it. It’s sweet, slick and sour, it leaves my mouth wanting and it tastes like Harry’s spunk. I’m so drunk it's not even funny anymore. I miss his spunk, that’s the truth. And I can’t breathe. The suit feels too tight, the tie is suffocating me and the room is spinning. A waiter passes me and I take another glass, he smiles at me, I look such a happy groom, smiling, drinking his husband’s wine while thinking of his ex-boyfriend’s spunk down his throat. My mind is in the gutter and I’ll live with it for the rest of my life. I reach for the handle and then I’m in the balcony and the night air is cool against my face and it’s like I don’t even remember how to breathe.

I close the door behind me and walk over to the railing, leaning against it, noticing there’s cold sweat trickling down my forehead and I ease my tie, fighting for air. I think I’m having a panic attack and my hands grip, white, at the railing. I’m breathing fast now, looking at the lights shining from the dark garden three stories under. Looking at the darkness and the tiny lights makes it better somehow. My breathing steadies. For a moment I remember there’s a world beyond me, in those shining warm lights. I drink the rest of the wine and my hand drops the glass over the railing. The shattering sound releases something inside me and I think of dropping over the railing too. Would I shatter?

 

_I’m not made of glass, Potter._

 

Maybe I was wrong when I said that. I feel thinner than glass now. Like I could blow in the wind. Like I could fucking disappear without anyone even noticing.  

‘The wedding was beautiful, Draco. I think congratulations are in order, aren’t they?’

I hear my own heart shatter inside me as I turn and my breath catches and he’s there, of course he is. He’s leaning against the wall, there’s a trace of light on one side of his face, coming from a tiny space between the curtains and I can see half of his jaw, of his mouth and one green eye and I stop breathing. He’s dressed up for the occasion and I can’t stop my eyes from travelling all over his body, every twist and turn of it that I know so well and will know for the rest of my life.

He’s wearing a dark suit and I’m mad, so fucking mad at him because it’s the one I gave him. A gift. Tailor made, specifically for him. It reminds me of too many things at once, but I can only focus on the fact that his measurements are still the same and I know them almost better than I know mine. He looks so fucking good in it. The only thing worse than that is that I fucking remember what’s underneath it and I know it’s even better.

‘You even looked like you weren’t going to throw up, although you could have answered faster on the I do bit. People wondered, you know. I know I did,’ he’s laughing. I can’t listen to that laugh. It’s bitter. It’s fucking hopeless. Everything happy got sucked out of it.

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I ask, but it’s just for something to say. He was invited. Adam insisted. Having Harry Potter on one’s wedding was always nice publicity, he said. Also, he had added, weren’t you friends at school? Oh Adam. He was so sweet, wasn’t he? If by friends you mean enemies, sure, I thought.

‘You used to be better at making conversation, love,’ Harry says quietly and I shiver. He can’t call me that. I won’t allow it. I’m about to say so but the wine is making me imagine he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me out.

‘You were always shit at it, so I won’t be taking any suggestions from you,’ I say, but it sounds empty. He laughs. He manages to make it sound light and careless, all the things he’s not actually feeling. Again I think he should have been in Slytherin. We both can play this game so well.

He shifts against the wall and tilts his head, licking his lips. His eye - the one I can see - doesn’t leave me and I’ve forgotten how green it is, even behind those glasses.

‘You always made me laugh, Malfoy,’ he says, and now, just to fuck with my mind, he’s being honest. He has that earnest smile on him. I only see half of it. It’s the smile that made me fall for him. ‘Should I call you Belanger now?’ he quirks an eyebrow at me. He has learned that shit with me. I have a crazy sudden urge to laugh. Really laugh. Because he’s pathetic, and we’re pathetic and I know why he’s here, alone with me.

I’m heady, I’m pissed and I’m running on Belanger wine and an upset, quite empty stomach, so I’m moving closer to him because I can’t deny the fucking pull of gravity. And I’m hungry for him.

‘I kept my name,’ I say, and flash him a teasing smile. It was the only thing I kept. The last threshold.

For a second I’m winning, because he looks utterly lost, eyes wide. I notice he’s not breathing properly. His smile comes back, and now I can see it all in the dark and it’s downright filthy and I feel naked under him. I’m ignoring the fact that I’ve been hard since I heard his voice, but he knows it.

‘Good,’ he says, and he’s walking over to me as my heart races and my mind screams I should move, I should get away from him because if he touches me I’ll be lost, but I feel rooted to the spot. ‘I prefer to wank with Malfoy on my lips anyway,’ he ads, and I’m harder.

He’s there. Too close. He still smells like apples and the summer and it’s a fucking high for me. I close my eyes and instead of feeling more drunk, my head suddenly clears. I want him. I love him. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. So I say:

‘Get the fuck away from me, Harry.’

I forget to call him Potter. It doesn’t matter now anyway, because he’s looking at me and he’s hurt. And defiant. And I love him. I love how much he fights even though it hurts. I wish I was like him, I really do.

‘Why should I?’ he snaps, he looks mad. ‘You made us both miserable. This is everything I have now. Fucking with your head, make you remember what you’ve forgotten.’

‘I never forget,’ I say, without even thinking.

‘He could never give you what we had. No one else can.’

‘He loves me,’ I lie. I can’t tell him the truth. He’d come and save me. He’d never let me be, if he knew.

For a wild moment I imagine telling him the truth. The look I imagine on his face is the same that fought wars. He’d face everything, everyone, if he knew the truth. He’d fucking take down Adam Belanger, ruin him. I know he would and that’s why he’ll never know. I won’t let him go so low. I know I can’t do much, but at least I can protect him from himself. Even if it makes me miserable.

He looks at me. I know he’s wondering if I’m telling the truth. Lucky for me Adam is a great actor. He makes a show of showering me with affection. He’s so good at it, I don’t even have to worry. When he doesn’t have an audience he doesn’t bother with a good morning, which works just as fine for me. I could murder him in his sleep, I think viciously. Maybe I will. But I don’t want to end up in Azkaban. It’s somewhere I never want to think about again. Somewhere Potter saved me from.

Harry is still silent, looking at me. He worries so much about me still, I know it in his face. He shouldn’t. I was a bastard to him. He should hate me. But he’s never been good in doing what’s best for him, has he? He always needs some help with that.

‘Anyone would,’ he says very quietly. I can’t handle how he sounds. He sounds so broken. He really believes anyone could fall in love with me and I fucking want to laugh. Sometimes I think the War fucked us up so badly we won’t ever be fine.

‘Do you, Draco? Do you love him?’ he asks and his eyes are sad, sad as I remember them being that last night, so many years ago. The night I left him. His smile never again reached his eyes. At least I never saw it again and I need to believe it was never that happy and free. Like when he was with me. He makes sure I know it when he speaks again, though.

‘You’re miserable. I’m miserable. Is this what you wanted?’

I can’t answer him. So I just fucking give up and change tactics. I can’t talk to him, I can’t tell him the truth, but we can do what we always did.

‘Why don’t you do what you came here to do, Potter?’ I ask him, blunt as a Gryffindor, teasing as a Slytherin and I fucking take his hand and place it over the hard bulge enclosed in my one-thousand-Galleons trousers.

He’s on me like a fucking hex to the heart. He’s palming me through my wedding suit, his hand strong and eager and knowing, and I’m tasting the fucking Belanger wine on his lips and tongue and inside his mouth and I’m so, so achingly hard. I’m cheating on my husband, with his fucking expensive wine across Harry Potter’s mouth and it’s everything, I don’t even feel guilty, I feel high on Potter’s taste and it’s even better than I remembered. He’s better than any wine and he tastes like everything I miss. We kiss like the world is going to end, but it already did and I played my part in it. He moans inside my mouth, soft, fragile, and I know he’s lost. I taste his tongue, draw it inside my mouth and I’m reminded of how vulnerable he is, how he’s never been afraid to show it to me.

He’s walking us over to the wall and pushing me against it and then my hand is pressed down on his cock and he lets out a groan. Fuck, I’ve missed his cock so much I could cry. I did cry. I lost everything about him and now I want to pretend I can have it back, that he’s still mine and so I bite his lower lip, push it between my teeth and I have him whimpering inside my mouth, eating me alive, my heart is coming out of my mouth and he’s going to fucking devour it. He doesn’t know he already did that before, and I don’t tell him, and give him what I have which is everything and nothing.

‘What would your husband do if he saw you right now? So hard for me, just from kissing me?’ he says, taking my tongue inside his mouth and I scream inside my mind at how good it feels. He’s provoking me, he wants me to break apart. To give up the act, but he should know better. I don’t try to correct him - I'm not hard from his kiss, I’ve been hard since I heard his voice.

Inside my head, I answer his question. It's not a pretty answer. Adam would kill me, I think. And then he’d murder my parents. Or drag their name in the mud. It would have the same effect, really. They wouldn’t be able to take that for the second time. It would kill them, and I cannot be responsible for more deaths. I won’t. I break the kiss, we’re both panting and too far gone, I know. We’re fucking high on each other.

‘You better put some wards around us then. And some silencing charm,’ I say, and it’s my voice again, the one I used to have around him. Soft, demanding, and his eyes are blown wide. I feel his cock harden against mine. I look down at it, at his bulge inside the suit I gave him and I want to rip it open.

‘Before you fuck me, I mean,’ I add, as an afterthought, even though he knows it’s all I’ve been thinking about. It’s all I ever think about. His mouth. His gentleness. His touch. His laugh, the food he used to cook for us. His voice, telling me about his day. Asking me about mine. Caring. About me. About my friends. About what I think. How I feel. I never could take him caring so much. It felt too good to be true.

He wards the door and silences the air around us like I knew he would, with blunt magic and a twist of his fingers. He looks up at me, and there’s a hint of something familiar in his eyes. He knows I love it when he does wandless magic. He knows it gets me all the time, like his green eyes, and his taste. I’m in love with him. He’s the love of my life and we’ll never be together. I know this and so I reach closer to his ear and tell him what I want.

‘Fuck me, Harry.’

One last time, I think. He cups my face in his hands and I wish he didn’t. I feel so scared  when he does that. His kindness scares me so much. He’s going to fuck me rough and harsh, like we both love, but he’ll also tell me how much he loves me, with every single thrust. And I’ll be so broken after. A broken pretty doll. Adam will like it. Harry will have the last remnants of my humanity. I’m laying that on him. He’s reaching for my lips and he knows this. His kiss is soft now, so soft, he’s opening me up already, his hands travelling down my back, and he takes my coat off and eases my tie, takes it off and all the time he’s drawing me closer, kissing me back to life, taking everything I still can give inside him, and he’s so warm it reaches inside me too. His hands are on my hair, on my neck and his lips kiss my jaw and I’m moaning, I’m helpless, I’m his.

‘I miss you so, so much,’ he’s saying against my neck and I sense tears behind my eyes. Here I thought I was dried up. ‘I miss you so fucking much I think I’m going to die,’ he whispers. _You won,'t,_ I think. _You're Harry Potter, you're larger than life itself. You won't._ I realise I'm praying.

We’re not moving now, his hands still on my hips and I blink fast, keeping the fucking tears at bay. I’m about to order him to fuck me against the wall and shut the fuck up, but he knows this and he’s already turning me over, his hands gentle and he’s reaching the front of my fancy trousers and unbuttoning them. The sight of his hands on me is almost enough to make me come.

He’s pulling my trousers and pants down, his hands smoothing over my arse and then he grips it hard and I’m on fucking fire. I yell something, I think it’s his name and he presses his length against my arse. I need him. I want to feel his cock dragging inside me, splitting me open, taking my shards and scattering them even more. I’ll never be put together, but I’ll feel whole for as long as he fucks me. He leans against me, and I feel his hands unbuttoning his own trousers, and he’s shaking, my baby… he’s broken down to bits too and it’s my fault. I look for his hand behind me, and caress his fingers and I try to lie with my touch, _it’s going to be fine, baby_. His hand stills around my crease and I tremble and he’s hesitant, like he doesn’t believe I still want this. And I’ve never wanted anything more.

‘Harry…’ I whisper. It’s enough. He’s taking a deep breath behind me, and his fingers come back and now they are slick and soft, and I close my eyes. He kisses my neck, his magic cleans me and preps me up, and I can’t believe how much I’ve missed this. His magic on me, inside me, getting me ready for his cock. My cock is jutting hard in front of me, at his command. My body has never reacted like this with anyone else. His fingers slide along my crease, find my hole and I buck, shift my hips and hold myself up against the wall, because I want him inside. He’s so careful, so gentle, that his fingers slide inside me softly, his other hand coming up to hold my chest as he presses further. I push back against his fingers and he’s in me now, his fingers curling up and I’m gone, I’m high and I’m only anchored to the earth by his fingers now fucking into me and it’s so perfect that again I wonder how I could let it go.

He’s breathing in my scent, he’s already so lost in me, like falling for me is just natural for him. I turn my face to look at him and he’s kissing me, deep, wet and desperate, like he wants to breathe me in. His fingers twist inside me and hit my prostate and I cry out. He’s fucking me ruthlessly, his fingers going in and out of me and there’s a third finger now and I’m drawing them inside me.

‘Please,’ I say and he pulls his fingers out and I know he’s slicking his cock, I want to look at it, to take it in my hands, to take it in my mouth but now I want it inside me so badly I can’t even think. He places the tip against my hole, and I lean over, spread my legs wider to allow him inside. He’s breaching me, I’m taking his cock slowly inside me and for a moment I believe I’m happy. He’s sliding inside me, and I know he’s holding back, he’s trying hard to control his body, to not snap his hips and drill into me, to give me time to adjust. I don’t want time, I don’t have time, I only have him and I push harshly back. His arms are around me, we still like that, his cock pulsing inside me, his arms make me feel so safe. Safe as I know I'll never be again. I would give my life to keep him like this forever.

‘Okay, baby?’

He’s so gentle, I’m going to die. Death by kindness. A gift, from Harry Potter.

‘More than,’ I answer him, my voice raw and sweet, because he makes me sound like that. Like a person.

This is our sign. He begins pounding slowly into me and I loose track of the world turning, of the years that have gone by, of every bad decision I made. I’ll always have this, I’ll always have this moment right here when he cries inside me and fucks me against this wall, my hand flat against it to support me, my wedding band shining under the light of the moon and he feels so good I dream it’s his ring on my hand, I dream he’s put that ring on my finger and he’s the one to take me home and fuck me on our bed. I dream I’m going to wake up beside him every day of my life and he’s in so deep I’m floating, I’m gone.

‘Does he fuck you like I do, Draco?’ he asks me when he goes so deep inside me I think I’m already coming, but I’m not, my cock is leaking pre-come and I’m riding my high, _him_.

He doesn’t sound jealous, just so sad. Like he almost wants me to answer that yes, Adam does fuck me like this, and it’s good, and it’s loving and it’s gentle. It would break his heart even more, but I know that’s what he wants to know. That I’m happy. I can’t tell him that when Adam fucks me I don’t feel like a person at all. I’m just somewhere he can shove his frustrations in. Deep. He fucks me with hate in his eyes and I take it all like someone finally is seeing me for what I really am. Harry can’t know this. If he knew Adam always hurts me when he’s fucking me, if he knew he’s careful enough to not leave any visible marks people might see, so he can still show me around like a pretty thing he owns. If he knew he only smacks my face enough so the spells still disguise it all afterwards. So I don’t need a Healer, because that would bring unpleasant questions. If Harry knew this he’d fucking kill him. I imagine a world where Adam Belanger does not own me and then I forget all about him because Harry is kissing me, kissing me awake and alive and I’m so afraid of it, so afraid of believing he can save me from myself again. I’m falling apart in his hands and I’m going to come and he’s almost there. I won’t go down alone.

‘Is this what you wanted, Potter?’ I ask him, and he’s fucking me harder, so close to losing it. ‘Is it? Your cock deep inside me, so you can remember what you lost? So you can know that this arse will never belong to you again? So you can think that you’ll have my hole one last time before Adam does? Cause he’ll have it forever?’

It’s like I can’t stop my mouth from moving and spilling out all these awful things. I’m vicious and he’s biting into my neck, trembling as he drills into me again and again and I don’t know which of us I’m actually hurting more. He’s nailing my prostate with every thrust and I’m beyond words now, the world is unfocused around me and there’s only Harry and his breath on my ear: _please_. He’s begging me and I can’t stop hurting him, the way I’m hurting all over. I’ll never have him again and he will remember this, how my arse feels, how my hole tightens around him and he’ll never fuck anyone else without remembering how I feel. I want it to be true. I will it to be true at this moment because I know I’ll never feel anything else for anyone. I want him to never forget, to think of Adam pounding me tonight on our newlywed bed, to think of him coming inside me, while Potter drinks himself to a coma. I think I’m going to die if he does. I can’t live in a world where Harry Potter doesn’t exist.

‘Yes. Fuck me, Draco,’ he says, even though he’s the one fucking me, but then it’s not, because I’m moving my hips, he’s given me all control, his hands drop to my waist, but he’s not pressing, I’m riding him, and he’s whimpering, drunk and lost on me and I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe he wants me like this, even if he knows he’ll be empty afterwards, even if he knows I’m another’s. He’s inside me like he never wants to leave and then he’s coming, his fingers grip my waist and mark my skin and I’m screaming with his spunk inside me, warm, filling me up, but he grabs the base of my cock and I can’t think, I’m on the verge of coming. He slips out of me, carefully, he doesn’t want to hurt me, he never will and he turns me around and his face looks like a shipwreck. I drown with him.

He drops to his knees and takes my cock in his mouth, licking the tip first and then taking it down his throat in one swift motion. His mouth around me is almost too much. His come is dripping down my thighs, warm. I feel his. I am.

I keep from coming just then because he looks up at me, and he asks me to wait. I know his eyes so well. He wants me to remember him like this, as he’s looking up at me like I'm everything and I know that as long as he does I’ll believe, I'll think I'm something - _someone_ , worthy. He makes me feel worthy. Loveable. Wanted. And he knows this. He's looking at me with those green eyes I'll remember until the day I die and then he’s sucking me down, his tongue swirls around my cock and finds my sweet spot, the one he knows so well and he licks at it, his eyes innocent and seeing through me, right down to my core - if I still have one, only he would know - and I’m trembling under his mouth, I’m fucking his mouth because I can’t help it and he’s taking me whole, deeper down his throat, his lips stretching over the head of my cock and then going down, down, until I have nowhere else to go and I want to die coming inside him. He comes up along my cock, so slowly I almost collapse from the shudder in my body and he holds me, his sure hands on my thighs, caressing my skin, knowing every bit of me. He sucks at the tip, ever so gently, then he opens his mouth and speaks against my cock.

‘Come for me, Draco,’ he whispers and my hips snap instinctively, finding his parted lips and he smiles and licks the tip again, I’m so close to coming I think for a moment I’m actually going to, with his parted lips around the tip of my cock. He kisses the tip. ‘I love you,’ he says, and his voice is sweet and broken, I shudder violently and his hands come up to steady me again. ‘I love you and I can’t keep away, so I’ll watch you being miserable your whole life. I’ll always be there when you need me. You are everything to me.’

He’s never said something like this to me and I thought I was dead but I’m shattering. I’m dropping from the sky. He takes my cock down his throat and I’m dying with Harry Potter down on his knees taking me in his mouth. He's almost crying, moaning around my cock and he loves it so much he's hard again. Hard for me, from me. I come inside his mouth, my whole body tensing up and I’m gripping his hair, fucking his face and coming and I hope he knows that I love him. His mouth falls open and my come drips from his tongue and down his chin and he licks it, not taking his eyes off me, and I’m dragging him up and kissing him and this time I try to tell him, I really do. I’m tasting the Belanger and my come and him on his tongue. We share my come between each other and it’s bittersweet like us, it’s smearing his jaw and mine as I draw him close. And again I try to tell him I’m his, _I love you, I love you._

‘Leave with me, Draco,’ he whispers and I know he knows I love him. He’s disheveled and lost, he looks so young again, the same Harry Potter that fought so much darkness barely at seventeen. Twelve years later, his eyes are a deep shade of hurt and I can’t look away and at the same time I can’t take them. His eyes were always what did it for me. I signed my sentence with them on me like this. I should have known I’d be condemned.

‘Leave him,’ he says. He holds my face still, between his warm hands. He searches something in my eyes, and I keep it from him. He can’t know, I repeat inside myself.

‘You know I won’t,’ I answer.

He does not give up. He never does.

‘Do you love him?’

Harry can be so blind sometimes. As he asks me that, some part of him believes it. He believes I might be in love with another man, when I’ve had him. He’s a fool. He’s always been a fool. _I love you,_ I want to say, but I don’t.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ is what I tell him.

He does not agree with me. I know I matter for him. But he knows better than to push me. He’s known me for years. So he changes tactics.

‘Come away with me,’ he gives me a small smile. There’s a small spot of white come on the edge of his lip and I want to leave it there. I feel his taste in my mouth still, mixed up with mine. I imagine going back inside with come all over my face, meeting up my husband happily with another glass of wine in my hand. I feel a sudden urge to laugh.

‘We’ll leave England. We’ll disappear,’ Harry says and I know what he’s talking about. We’ve both entertained this dream for so long. A house in the woods. Close to the city, some city, but still far away enough for us to have some peace and quiet. A beautiful dream. That quiet life is not for Potters and Malfoys. Ours is a doomed public life. There will be nothing happy about it, and I’m guessing I’ve just made that a certainty today.

‘What about your job?’ I ask, like I’m considering it. Like this is the bigger problem and I’m not just recently married to a man who can destroy me. Because I’m fucked up like that. My brain gets high on imagining impossible good things that won’t ever happen to me. The one good thing of my life has already happened and I fucking let it go.

‘I hate my job. I’m only doing it to be close to you. To see you every fucking day, and you know it,’ Harry says, and I close my eyes, because I already knew this and I just wanted to hear it again.

I open my eyes and he’s looking at me. He’s so stubborn. It’s gonna get him killed one day. Again.

For now, I’m the one who’s dying everyday with him around. It’s punishing and it’s why I do it. I want him there, so we can both suffer.

I pick up his hand in mine and kiss it slowly. I imagine holding it on the street. I imagine I’m his boyfriend again and I know he’s doing the same. He’s thinking of leaving with me, right under Adam’s nose. He looks up at me, and he’s torn. Something twisted inside me revels in it. He’s this broken because I’m not his anymore. What he doesn’t know is I will always be.

He knows it’s over. He lifts his hand and he’s going to cast a cleaning spell on the both of us, but I stop him.

‘No, don’t,’ I tell him and he realises what I mean. I want his come on me, as much as it’s possible. I don’t want magic to remove it. He takes a handkerchief from his breast pocket and he drops down again to clean me up gently with it. Tears well up behind my eyes as he cleans me carefully, sweetly, and he’s killing me now, with this. He finishes up and kisses my thigh. I would never allow anyone to kiss me there. Only him. I vouch to never let Adam’s lips close to that spot. If he goes near it, I’ll strangle him with my own legs wrapped around his neck. I will.

Harry stands up and pushes my trousers and pants up. Then I do the same to his. We stare at each other, I will the time to stop, he licks the corner of my lips, where my come is drying up. I’m kissing him desperately even before I know what the hell I’m doing. He’s kissing me back in the same way he does everything else. With everything he has. I think he wants to save me by kissing me back to life. I wish he could. I wish fairytales were real. I wish love could save us all. But reality is cruel and bites my throat to keep me sharp.

‘Just tell me if something shows on my face,’ I whisper, and he knows I’m getting ready to leave, to go back to my wedding party, to my husband. He looks so broken. He shakes his head, then brushes his thumb gently over my jaw and I want to cry. Instead, I smile at him. And this smile is all me, I give it all to him, everything, my broken heart, my love, my dreams. My last happy smile.

‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ he says and I do feel it. When he looks at me like that I believe. I believe I’m a beautiful man, that I’m beautiful inside and out and that someone loves me for what I am. He does. My past does not matter to him anymore because he’s in love with the person I am now. The same person who has made us both so miserable today. I’ve been in love with him for so long I could divide my life in two. The part where I thought I hated him and the part where I found out he’s everything to me. I touch his face with my fingers. They get wet, I realise he’s been crying for a long while and I remove my hand fast, feeling something fall inside me, the dead weight. I turn from him. I don’t think if this is the last time. I don’t think at all. I feel his eyes on me. He loves me. I take my wand and break the wards, the charm. It hurts making magic, because magic reminds me of him all the time. He’s the only magic I still know.

I’m walking away. Adam is going be tasting him on my lips tonight. When he takes me tonight he’s going to be taking me together with the love of my life. With his spunk drying inside me. With my taste and his on my lips, and jaw and mouth. He’ll think it’s his wine, but I’ll know. He’ll mark me with his spunk, with his hands, with his teeth, but he’ll never know I’m already taken. Harry Potter has taken the only place that matters inside me, the only good thing left in me. The one he’ll never see.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this is not happy, but it just came out. I hope you like it, I hope it says something to you. Comments are heartwarming*


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